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composing the sleeve-or of his right hand-or of his left hand, neighbour, he should receive the-gentle rebuke of " ladye faire." Is it not fervently to be hoped, that these cumbrous fashions, which add nought to the charms of the wearer, will make their disappearancenever to return? In thus venturing to make this "ryghte humble" remonstrance, I speak, as I believe, the sentiments, in sober seriousness, of the male part of the creation.

The venerable, and grave, Camden, tells this humorous tale of the disposition, even in his days, of the lower class to follow their superiors in the reigning fashions: "I will tell you," says he, "how Sir Philip Calthrop purged John Drakes the Shoemaker of Norwich in the time of King Henry the 8. of the proud humour which our people have to be of the Gentlemens cut: This knight bought on a time as much fine French tawney Cloath as should make him a gowne, and sent it to the Taylours to be made. John Drakes a shoemaker of that towne, comminge to the said Taylours, and seeing the Knights gowne cloath lying there, liking it well, caused the Taylour to buy him as much of the same cloath, and price to the same intent, and further bad him to make it of the same fashion, that the Knight would have his made of. Not long after the Knight comming to the Taylours, to take measure of his gowne, perceiveth the like gowne cloath lying there, asked of the Taylour, whose it was. Quoth the Taylour, it is John Drakes, who will have it made of the self same fashion that yours is made of; well

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said the Knight in good time be it. I will (said he) have mine made as full of cuts as thy sheeres can make it: it shall be done said the Taylour, whereupon because the time drew neere, he made haste of both their garments. John Drakes when he had no time to goe to the Taylours till Christmas-day, for serving of customers, when hee had hoped to have worne his gowne, perceiving the same to be full of cuts began to sweare with the Taylour for the making of his gowne after that sorte. I have done nothing (quoth the Taylour) but that you bad me, for as Sir Philip Calthrops is, even so have I made yours. By my latchet quoth John Drakes I will never weare Gentlemans fashion againe."

The point of this well-told tale is so admirable, that any attempt to sharpen it would only weaken its effect. Let us, then, pass on to the

Bress of John Halle,

Whose portrait I have already presented to you, p. 89; and for the purpose of a more satisfactory elucidation of that dress, I take leave, gentle reader, in this place to introduce to your notice a re-engraving of an ancient painting, which was on the wall of the Hungerford Chapel, now, alas-no more!

The chapel alluded to was on the north side of the chancel of Salisbury Cathedral, and was taken down at the same time with another on the south side, erected by Bishop Beauchamp; this was done, when some extensive alterations

were made by Wyatt, under the auspices of Bishop Barrington, about the year 1790.

This chapel was erected under the will of Robert, Lord Hungerford, who died in the year 1459, and a chantry was founded in it by Margaret, his wife, daughter, and heiress of William, Lord Botreaux. In his description of this chapel Gough, in his " Sepulchral Monuments," says,

"On the wall, was a curious, and tolerably well preserved picture of a man, large as life, drest in the habit of the times, a short doublet, cord and bow round his waist, breeches, piked shoes, a high hat and feather, and a dagger in front, a staff in his left hand, his right hand held up in terror and affright at the sight of Death, who was approaching him in a shroud, and had a ridged coffin at his feet." The above description by Gough is by no means an accurate, or full, one of this ancient, and curious, frescopainting. It is what our ancestors denominated "A Morality," and represents a colloquy between "Dethe and a Galante," or Beau of those times in the prime of life-in the pride of strength- and revelling in all the vanities of the day. Look at him, gentle reader! Is not this the man, that Shakspeare drew?-was it not such an one, whom Hotspur met? when, reeking from the field of battle gained, and faint from wounds of toilsome war, he pestered was by such" a popinjay,"

"Neat, and trimly dress'd,

Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new reap'd
Show'd like a stubble land at harvest-home :

He was perfuméd like a milliner;

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